


Time of Death

by samiraxlula



Series: Life is Like an Hourglass [8]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Detective Comics (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Batman Needs a Robin, Batman: A Death in the Family Fix-It, Bittersweet Ending, Gen, Jason Todd Deserves Happiness, Jason Todd Whump, Protective Parent Bruce Wayne, Queen Talia al Ghul, Worried Parent Bruce Wayne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24854113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samiraxlula/pseuds/samiraxlula
Summary: Jason is fifteen and (mostly) happy again. He’s looking into colleges and thinking of giving Tim his Robin suit. However, that all falls apart when the Al Ghul's come to town and his death is once again imminent.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Series: Life is Like an Hourglass [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1723129
Comments: 47
Kudos: 207





	1. Monsters Leave the Closet

“You should have let me kill him when we had the chance, Father.” 

The woman’s voice broke the concentrated silence, arms crossed before the listener who was studiously pouring over texts of ancient orders and apocalypse plagues, becoming determined in solving the mysteries of the book before his enemies did. 

“He is beneath us.”

“That does not mean he needs to continue living.”

The once-physician sighed heavily, which was a rare thing for him to do in all his several hundred years of life, as he gazed out through the penthouse windows and onto the towering Gotham horizon from his seat.

“Of all the ancient cities in history that have been destroyed or conquered by the Demon’s Head, Gotham has been the only one to elude me.”

His daughter only watched him with a sharpening green gaze, waiting for his allowance to unsheathe her blade as he turned back to his books. 

“It seems you were correct after all, my daughter. I have overestimated my ability to control the madman and it is I who must correct this sin.”

*

Jason didn’t even bother to knock before opening the maple-panelled study door and making his way into the room, carelessly throwing himself onto an armchair in front of the desk while waiting for Bruce to finish looking over his documents.

One of Bach's sacred cantatas, ‘Ach Gott, wie manches Herzeleid,’ was playing quietly in the background on a record and the sky outside was overcast in prediction of the rain a day away, the season’s cold wind buffeting the windows.

The older man looked more tired than usual as Jason knew he’d been running himself ragged between his duties as a CEO and Batman. He’d created such a pile-up of WE paperwork that he had started to eat separately in his study due to the particularly heavy paperwork for the company. 

It didn’t however, stop the man from stacking the papers he was reading over against the desktop to square their edges before setting them aside and softening his harsh, fatiguing lines to take in his hesitant son.

“Can I help you with something, Jay-lad?”

Taking a sip out of the #1 superhero mug Jason had gag-gifted him one father’s day, Bruce looked grateful for the distraction he created. 

“Here,” Jason presented an envelope without much ceremony, throwing it onto Bruce’s lap while he put on a nonchalant expression despite his nervousness. “I got you a graduation present.”

Having skipped two grades in middle school set Jason to graduate high-school next year at sixteen instead of eighteen. It was a welcome achievement for him to celebrate and Bruce and Alfred had been incredibly proud and supportive of his choices in colleges. 

“Jay,” Bruce laughed in that low, deep reverberation of his. “ _You're_ the one supposed to be getting the graduation presents.”

Jason only shrugged in an attempt to play casual. “Just don't make a big deal out of it or I'll take it back.”

“Alright…” Bruce tilted his head with a smile still on his face as he opened the sealed yellow envelope carefully.

When he did manage to get it open and slide out the legal documents inside, there was a sound of inhalation that went along with his expression stuttering in amazement for a whole two minutes, like he didn’t know what emotion to finally settle on.

“That's going to be the name on my diploma.” Jason felt his face flush at the reaction before he got a dreamy look at the prospect of his future schooling, gazing off into the distance. “My many, _many_ diplomas to come…”

“Jason Peter _Wayne_.” Bruce re-read the name on the certificate aloud the sixth time around, his face doing a strange thing that could almost be mistaken for looking like he was about to cry, which would have been ridiculous to fathom for Jason.

Taking the papers very carefully, as if they were priceless manuscripts, Bruce set them atop the envelope and stood to go around the desk and pull Jason into a tight hug, tucking his son comfortably underneath his chin as he held him close.

As Jason relaxed into the embrace, his anxiety still didn’t settle and it wasn’t about Bruce’s reaction to changing his name anymore. The reason was because of the month they were now in. _April_.

The melancholy music of Bach continued to play on the record to match his melancholy mood. 

While he hadn’t gone through with any of the same lead-up to his first death, alternatively having poisoned Felipe Garzonas months before he would have even met Gloria Stanson and making it look like he died of an overdose, to not running after a mother he now knew was working for the Joker, Jason had made sure to ‘correct’ events in his past.

However, he did know that his changes to the timeline would have consequences he’d need to deal with, minuscule or otherwise. 

Even as a result of his prior more minor actions, memories that he’d once had became overwritten as he’d had to deal with the fallout of his accidental drunkenness, to his killing of Black Mask and Mad Hatter and even his decision to skip two grades before high school.

What he hadn’t been prepared for was this year. 

Barbara’s shooting never occurred at the beginning of the year and she had suited up as Batgirl a couple of times to help him and Batman out these past few months. And because that had never happened, the Joker never escaped Arkham to later secure a nuclear warhead as well.

Nothing he’d been expecting to happen transpired and he didn’t know whether to be scared or elated by the fact.

“Is something the matter?” Bruce asked as he leant back to notice the anxious expression on Jason’s face, his hands still on the boy’s shoulders and clasped warmly.

“Huh? No, I’m just thinking about college.”

“There’s still plenty of time before that.” Bruce ruffled his curls with a proud look that made his chest ache in all the best ways. 

“Should we get burgers after patrol?”

Jason laughed in agreeance while fixing his styled hair. “Come on, old man. We got bad guys that need chasin’.”

Bruce grinned as he wrapped his arm around Jason’s shoulders and squeezed him tightly to his side as they made their way down to the cave, completely unaware of the events that were soon to unfold across the city in their joy of the moment, the quiet music dying behind them.


	2. Nightmares Become Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why am I always unhappy with my word count? :(

A black cat crept alongside the narrow top of a brick wall, its wet fur glistening as the rain fell onto the late afternoon sidewalks with the sky growing darker as the sun began to set and bleed into wet reds and purples. 

When a powerful beam of light swept down from turning onto the street, it momentarily illuminated the feline's green eyes, which twinkled in the harsh glare as the light of a sleek black vehicle swept past with a thrum of muffled sound accompanying the moving illumination. 

“Can you believe it, Babs? Reported sightings of _ninja_ in Gotham. I tell you, I’m getting too old for this all.”

Picking up her father’s off-the-rack tan trenchcoat from the chair where it had been laid to hang it up neatly onto the coat rack in front of the door, his redheaded daughter could only laugh at his still being bewildered by what went on in this city. 

“Nonsense, Dad. You’re still in your prime.” Barbara kissed his cheek affectionately before heading off to make them some coffee as they both had been pulling late hours in their respective jobs. 

“Barb.” Jim returned flatly. “My hair has gone completely white, I’ve suffered a stroke and the doctors think I may have lung cancer. I’m old.”

“ _‘Think’_ being the keyword, Dad. Besides, I think your hair makes you look distinguished.” 

There were sounds of boxes and tins in the cupboard being shifted through before the redhead seemed to find the special coffee blend she wanted to put into the maker, talking all the while from the room over.

“You know Alfred called the other day? Told me Jason had his family name changed to Wayne.”

“Hm. Guess Bruce isn’t the only Wayne in Gotham then anymore.” Jim snipped his way through a newspaper clipping. “He must have been over the moon about that.”

“So much so that he wants to invite us over in a few days to celebrate. We should go.”

_Knock._   
_Knock._   
_Knock._

“Oh, would you mind getting that, Dad?” Barbara called from the kitchen where she was busy pouring out the freshly made coffee into twin green mugs. 

“Sure, sweetheart.” Closing his scrapbook and brushing the small pieces of newspaper clipping remains off his pants before he rose to get the door, Jim didn’t even feel what happened next.

*

The charity ball went into full swing as the evening sky drew to a calm stillness, with the extra hired help rotating in shifts to pass around champagne glasses while Alfred managed over the general affairs, critiquing the tiny appetizers as they were brought out onto the floor.

The host of the Wayne Foundation event, however, felt an unease he couldn’t place despite continuing to engage with the inconsequential polite conversation and jovial mood the congregants took. 

“Wonderful party, Bruce.” Vicki Vale commented from his arm, having been his date for the evening. 

“Ah, yes.” Bruce answered absentmindedly, earning a deep frown from the woman and her walking off in irritation, but he was too busy scanning the ballroom to look for any sign of his still-absent son in the crowd of wealthy donors. 

When they had left for the charity event earlier that evening, Jason had said that he wasn’t feeling all too well and that he’d catch a cab to be there only a little while later. 

So while Bruce knew that he had been looking especially anxious as of late, which was also starting to affect his performance out on patrol, Jason had been explicitly clear in that he didn’t want to talk about it either. 

It had been two hours since then.

While he wanted nothing more than to leave and at least call to check up on him, he could feel Alfred’s glare anytime the mere thought of leaving his hosting duties would cross his mind. 

There was simply no getting out of this.

Allowing his eyes to continue wandering across the ballroom in an analyzing scan, he let his ‘Brucie’ expression fall for a split second upon noticing an older, finely dressed man in a dark green velvet tuxedo enter his line of vision.

“ _Ra’s_.” Bruce greeted him as though the man were an old friend, despite it being a shallow action to mask the agitation he felt upon laying eyes on him.

“Bruce.” The Demon’s Head nodded once in returned greeting. 

While he would have normally referred to his chosen yet unwilling heir as ‘Detective,’ he had enough propriety to use Bruce’s preferred form of address outside of his cowl. 

The Dark Knight himself did not want to deal with the manipulative and dangerous centuries-old man now, especially not with him being worried over leaving a sick Jason back at the manor alone. 

His concern apparently escaped his emotional mask enough for Ra’s to pick-up on and no one else in the golden lighting of the overhead chandeliers. 

“I haven’t seen your boy this evening. To think that I thought you always kept that child within sight.” Ra’s commented upon the slip with a raised eyebrow and cool sip of his champagne.

It could be noted upon that the Demon’s Head would never refer to Dick or Jason as Bruce’s sons or his ‘children’, as he did not share his occasional adversary’s views on adoption and non-biological family ties. 

Not that his preferred own blood showed much loyalty towards him in comparison. 

“Your point?” 

Bruce kept himself from growling through gritted teeth as a round of toasting went on behind them.

He knew that it wasn’t beyond Ra’s to kidnap his children solely to make a point, something which he’d done before with Dick, but the near-immortal showed no signs of having played such a hand.

There was a buzz from the phone in his pocket, which he had set to emergency notifications only, and mistrustingly removed his watchful eyes from Ra’s to read the news alert with growing disbelief. 

< _Police Commissioner James Gordon has been declared dead tonight after his suspected murderer, the Joker escaped Arkham Asylum—_ >

He didn’t even bother finishing his conversation with the eco-terrorist, dashing out of the venue and tugging off his bowtie past some slick-haired Falcone boys to get to the bat-bunker in the secret sub-basement of the Wayne Foundation building. 

“Master Bruce!” Alfred stopped him near the kitchens, his face a deathly pale as he held a cellphone he had just gotten off a call with. 

Though he had perfected mastery over his own heart and pulse control, having learned such techniques from a hidden sect of Yogis all said to be over a hundred years old, none of their teachings seemed to benefit him at that moment. 

“The police just called, sir. Master Jason’s taxi was found totalled in a ditch. He’s been declared missing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Ra's. He came all the way to warn Bruce with the rare decency of his soul (about something that was really all his fault tbh) and B just runs off to figure it out himself. Ra's is just left there standing and thinking: I could have told you that...(≖_≖ )


	3. I Won’t Let Them Hurt You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to remind: This is the final installation of the main series (4 chapter stories), but I will be continuing to write one-shots scattered throughout this timeline to sort of supplement its world.

The last thing he remembered was the screeching of tires and the taxi flipping over enough times for him to become disoriented even before receiving the concussion he now dealt with.

Jason felt like his brain was working way too slowly to catch up with his consciousness, so he was left to heave for air with lungs that were mostly useless while feeling a sense of panic build up in him as he tried blinking to clear his vision rapidly. 

Where was he? 

What happened? 

He was still dressed in his full tuxedo suit minus the bowtie, which he had been fiddling with before he blacked out, so he figured that the crash happened sometime just before he arrived at the foundation venue. 

The handcuffs were something that obviously happened afterwards though.

Attempting to gather his bearings, Jason focused on breathing, counting his breaths, expanding and contracting his lungs slowly and letting the air fill his chest. Everything was swimming in his vision and he was just about ready to puke his guts out upon realizing what it was exactly that he’d been smelling since he woke up.

It was the smell that haunted his nightmares.

Not the smell of ashes or rusty metal in desert sands but something more akin to the stench of chemicals and death that had been left out on a hot summer day.

_The Joker._

Suddenly he wasn’t just an adult-in-a-child’s body or the former Red Hood anymore, but a fifteen-year-old dressed in a Robin suit instead of a tuxedo. And all the training he’d had, all the years and trainers, Leagues and Castes, it was all forgotten inside a warehouse with a homicidal maniac.

“Stop me if you’ve heard this one before!” The clown strolled into his sights, cheerfully swinging that very same crowbar he’d beat him with a lifetime ago.

_So no matter how I choose to live, I’ll always die like this in the end._

“I promise it’s to _die_ for!” The slam of the cold metal broke his leg with a loud crack that echoed along with the maniacal laughter which flooded the warehouse. 

As the crowbar came down again, slamming onto his chest and forcing the air from his lungs, Jason couldn’t help but let out noise from the pain of multiple ribs breaking all at once. 

_You know, in retrospect, maybe this isn’t all so bad._

He figured that while he was struggling to breathe, had a headache that could kill, zero clues how he’d gotten here in the first place, and still wanted to hurl until his stomach was settled, at least his debility was winning out and darkness was slowly starting to creep over his vision.

And hey, who knew? Maybe Bruce would come for him this time. He hadn’t been stupid and run off on his own in this life, so there was a chance someone would come for him.

_Yeah._

_Maybe._

“Now, now. I hope you aren’t trying to fall asleep on me!” The Joker cackled uproariously.

Forcing his eyes open again— when had he closed them? — Jason looked around, trying to focus harder this time and get his brain to work past the blunt trauma dealt to it.

In an attempt to help clear his mental fogginess, Jason shook his head, which was an idea he regretted immediately because of the concussion though he did manage to come up with two things despite. 

One, he was kidnapped and trapped in a room with a psychotic clown who had already murdered him once before and was clearly aiming to do it twice. 

Two, he was screwed and going to die.

 _He was going to die._ Repeating the last thought again, it weirdly didn’t seem like that big of a deal to him at that moment. He was just going to die. 

He’d already done it twice before, so what was once more? At least he knew how it was going to play out this time around.

_Wait...no._

He didn’t want to die like this again. He’d gone through all that work of making up with Bruce, accepting and befriending Tim and finally, _fucking finally_ was on his way to getting that high school diploma. 

No one was going to take that chance from him again.

The air was still laden with the scent of blood and chemicals that Jason swore he could taste in his screams. Or it could have simply just been the blood dripping down from his head and getting into his eye and mouth.

“ _Please_...” A quiet plea came from him, voice a hoarse cracked whisper.

“Hmm? Did someone say something?” The Joker yanked his head up by his hair, bringing the boy closer to his face so that he could hear the kid begging more clearly. 

“ _Go fuck yourself._ ” 

And with that, Jason slammed the side of his head into the Joker’s and wrapped his handcuffs around his pasty white neck, his bones aching and cracking with every move as he twisted in an attempt to choke him.

This proved futile, however, as the clown only slammed him down onto his back with a sickening sound of impact from his broken body. 

He could hear the voice of one of his many teachers shouting at him, _“no hesitation. Just do.”_ So he did. 

Jason used the only strength he had left in his adrenalin reserves to whip his leg around and kick against the grip hard enough to hear the separation of Joker’s jaw from his skull, which still didn’t stop the maniacal laughter somehow.

Still hissing at the pain the action elicited, Jason kicked the fallen crowbar away with the same one unbroken leg, clenching his teeth as he dragged his beaten body to move before the clown could grab hold of him again. 

Unfortunately, he couldn't get very far, feeling the pasty white hand on his broken leg as he found himself being dragged back to his complete terror. 

_God, I didn’t want to die yet._ Tears began to form in the mixing of his hyperventilating panic and frustrations. He was trying so hard and doing all he could but he just wasn’t able.

He was powerless to stop any of it with most of the bones in his body broken, blood in his blurred eyes and a head injury that needed immediate attention all while being dragged along the cold floor closer to the insane gargling laughter. 

His limbs were giving up. His lungs were giving up. His mind was giving up.

His heart was giving up.

And he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.

The quiet calm that began to overtake Jason’s blackening vision was only broken by the sound of a gunshot that rang through the chilly spring air.


	4. Wake Up Safe in My Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wasn’t fast enough and 𝙝𝙚... his 𝙨𝙤𝙣... It was 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚.

The mechanical sound of the oxygen tank and steady beeping of the EKG machine was what Jason woke up to an unknown amount of time later, matching his breathing to the beeping of the machines that surrounded the bed he was laid up in.

The sounds were the only indication he needed to realize he hadn’t died again, his swollen eyes remaining closed as he attempted to move his extremities despite feeling overly numb and broken.

He was able to make out that there was an intravenous cord snaking out of his bandaged right arm, a cannula resting above his swollen lips, which filtered oxygen through his nose and a raised hip traction. 

He was still too out of it to count anything more.

“Finally awake, I see.” 

Although he was still in a considerable amount of pain and under a number of heavy drugs he mostly recognized, Jason couldn’t help but snap his blackened eyes open to see the owner of the feminine voice sitting in the corner of the hospital room reading his medical charts.

“ _Talia_.” Jason breathed in relief although it was raspy, taking in the sight of the striking woman who had cared for him all those years ago, not that she would have recalled doing such a thing a lifetime ago.

He had missed her more than he thought he would have.

“How did I get here?” He asked over the whooshing sound of the compressing bellows of the oxygen machine.

“My father allowed me the chance to take down the Joker.” She observed him with a sharpened green gaze. “He had foolishly tried to work with that creature and I had to correct his mistake.”

“You shot him.” 

“I was not about to allow that repulsive clown beat a _child_ to death.” Talia glared at him defensively from her seat, clearly used to Bruce’s reactions to her methods. 

“I kept you alive long enough for the paramedics to arrive and had my own doctors brought in to treat you here.” 

“Heh. Sounds like you, alright.”

“You speak as if we know each other, boy.”

“We did.” Jason wheezed dismissively, earning a concerned instinctive twitch from Talia that practically screamed she was a mother. “But that was a lifetime ago.”

“I see…” She commented intrigued, not writing him off as a headcase despite the fact that anyone else would have immediately after hearing the same words. But then again, she was someone who believed very strongly in concepts such as fate and destiny. 

“I’ll have to keep an eye on you, Jason Wayne.” 

Standing up to leave as exhaustion crept over him once more and edged at the peripheries of his vision, Talia walked over to the edge of his bed and placed the medical charts back where they belonged.

“Talia,” Jason turned his bandaged head to whisper when she was close enough, smiling mischievously as if he was in on a great secret. 

“Tell Damian I said ‘hello.’”

His last thought was that it was unusual to see Talia be in any sort of shock at all. 

*

Bruce and Alfred sounded like they were talking from underwater, not like speech exactly, but more like a steady distorted flux of drab gray verbiage without the vigor of speech.

_“You mustn't blame yourself, Master Bruce. You are not omniscient.”_

_“That's not good enough. I shouldn’t have left him, Alfred. It was preventable. And Jim...”_

_“Need I remind you, sir, that you have been occupied with matters most urgent? You only just returned from that hostage crisis in Corto Maltese, and then there are your duties to Wayne Enterprises. With all due respect, even Batman cannot be everywhere at once.”_

However, when he came to, it was only Bruce sitting there next to him, holding his hand like his life and sanity depended on clinging so tightly that he could feel the man’s own pulse beating.

When he tried struggling to speak, persisting in spite of his strangling gags and his voice grinding out a sense of urgency, what was seconds earlier a steady rhythmic beep on the EKG monitor was now beeping at a frantic quick time.

“Jason. _Jason!_ Easy lad, settle down, breathe.” 

Bruce had a surprising way of reacting to distress that wasn’t anything like how he responded to other emotions. It was like that special combination of almost-tears and near-panicked choking hit his ears and a switch was flipped, telling him exactly what to do.

“You’re going to be alright, son.”

As he had run down to that sub-basement with an unusual amount of visible fear present on his face that wasn’t the normal toxin-induced kind, only one name had been running on repeat through Bruce's mind.

He had given his heart fully and willingly to the boy, so much so that anytime he came into contact with Crane’s fear toxin, Jason constantly played a role in his hallucinations. 

“What happened to the Commish?” Jason’s throat felt scorched and constricted, making talking painful even when he did draw a wheezy breath to speak to ask about what he had heard earlier.

“Jim…” Bruce looked away from him for a minute with mournful eyes for a good friend and an even better man. 

“He passed away two days ago. Dick is staying with Barbara.”

A voice called over the loudspeaker in the hallway outside, paging a doctor and startling Jason out of his shock. _This is my fault. I changed history._

“Dad...do me a favour.”

“Anything, Jay.” Bruce was visibly relieved when the beeps slowed and then settled back into a rhythmic pattern; however, he noticed they were still more frequent than before.

“Train Tim to be your next Robin.”

Outside the hospital room window, a freezing rain had begun a steady drizzle, pattering on the glass and causing him to start again. He stared at it for a long time in silence as Bruce’s stony anger grew.

“Absolutely _not_.” Even without a cowl, the older man’s celebrated good looks wore a mask set in the same apathetic pull of tight features.

“There aren't going to be any more Robins and that’s the way I want it from now on.”

“Batman needs a Robin.” Jason smiled tiredly but resigned in his decision. “And that's not me anymore. I know that now.”

“Jay…” Bruce began, which the exhausted boy only waved off to continue what he was saying.

“Besides, I was planning on giving it up to go to college next year. School is the most important thing to me and you know that.” If he wasn’t in so much pain and could actually move something, he would have shrugged then.

“Besides, didn’t I tell you once that I’d take off this costume right now, never say another word about it and be perfectly happy to just be Jason Todd and call Bruce Wayne my father?”

“Well, I don’t know if you can say exactly that anymore, chum.” Bruce sighed fondly as he pressed a kiss to his son’s bandaged forehead. 

“You’re a Wayne now, remember?”

.

.

.

[FIVE YEARS LATER]

Gotham was completely destroyed, the skyline having collapsed and the sounds of wailing mothers covered in dust and blood resounded throughout the city.

Fear and panic ensued even after the ground had stopped shaking and cracking open in splitting craters. That fear ran in particular through the vigilante running through the broken streets, having rushed there all the way from Manhattan.

“Robin!” Nightwing yelled just as the colourful bird he had called rushed out of a building with two children clinging off of him, the walls collapsing onto each other behind him. 

The fallen debris and smashed gargoyles lay all around them as Nightwing took one of the kids from the younger hero and bounced her in his arms to calm her frightened cries. 

“The paramedics are en route. ETA, two minutes away.” The calm voice of Oracle came through their comms, though she was just as distressed as everyone else in the destroyed city. 

The blaring sirens could be heard getting closer, until the sight of an ambulance weaving through the fallen rubble could be seen with its blue and red lights ablaze.

Leaping out of the back doors, two men dressed in paramedic uniforms came rushing to take care of the kids, who were full-on bawling with the blood that ran down their small faces. 

Satisfied that they were now in good hands, Nightwing rushed off to continue helping pull people out from underneath collapsed buildings with a quick spoken ‘thank you’ in goodbye.

“Don’t even think about it, kid.” 

The second paramedic grabbed Robin’s cape before he could follow the other vigilante, forcing him to sit down on the curbside so that he could do something about the side wound he was clutching.

With steady hands, he took a strip of wound-sealing gum he knew was in Robin’s utility belt and pressed it over the puncture in his side, stopping the bleeding enough for him until he reached a bat-bunker and the internal damage could be examined and repaired.

“Now, go do your thing, Boy Wonder.” 

Jason gave Tim a secretive smile with a returned wink as the two departed, running back off to continue aiding the relief efforts in different ways. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooo! Thank you for staying with me 'till the completion of this series! It's been a fun ride and I enjoyed killing off the Clown especially. ❤️ 
> 
> (By the way, that quote Jason was talking about having said was in Batman #385) 😊


End file.
